


Requiem

by p_diyos



Category: Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Historical References, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5540069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_diyos/pseuds/p_diyos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a strange day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem

It was a strange day. 

 

Pole woke up to the sound of silence, one he was not accustomed to since he came back to Manila. The uncoordinated crow of his neighbor’s roosters, low hollers from peddlers, and the clicking of horse hooves were absent; only the light whispers of the wind in the distance filled the otherwise empty void. The early morning light streamed through the open windows, and when he peeked outside, found very few people in the streets. 

 

He shrugged it off and attempted to go about his day, though nothing about eating _bulanglang_ soup or spending his morning reading in his cozy, well-kept study made the day feel any less off. 

 

“Kuya, nakita mo ba yung dyaryo?”

 

His brother Prudencio entered the room a few seconds later, hands behind his back and eyes looking everywhere but at him.

 

Pole stopped looking through the papers on his desk. The way his brother avoided his eyes made his hands feel clammy, but he asked nonetheless. Prudencio sighed, handing over the newspaper folded backward. 

 

After unfurling the paper loudly, it took five seconds for Pole to read the headline before his heart stopped.

 

*

 

It was a week later that he got an unexpected visitor, and that day had also been particularly off. Prudencio entered his study with an expression like he saw a ghost. When Pole quirked his brow, his brother stepped aside and invited _her_ into the room. 

 

He sat back as much as his limbs would allow, his body protesting against anything that wasn’t a slump. “Felicidad.”

 

“Apolinario.” Her voice that normally made the hairs on his nape stand didn’t carry its usual coldness. If anything, she sounded tired. “Ang tagal nating hindi nagkita.”

 

Except for her cold stare and thin lips, she was Miong’s carbon copy. It was for that very reason that among Miong’s siblings, he felt most at ease with her. “Maraming nangyari sa panahong iyon.”

 

“Marami nga.” The corners of her lips twitched with amusement, but even that didn’t feel genuine.  She sat down on the chair across him. “Pumunta ako dito para imbitahin kita. Inaasahan kong narinig mo na ang balita.”

 

His jaw tightened instinctively as he nodded once, looking down at his lap. “Mahirap na hindi malaman ang nangyari. Nasa dyaryo pa at lahat,”

 

Pole watched her eyebrows crease together from the corner of his eye, face forming into a ghost of an expression that made his heart stop for longer than a beat. “Makakapunta ka ba?”

 

He sighed. “Papaalisin lang nila ako, gaya ng dati.” He let more irritation slip into his voice than he should. He supposed it was a consequence of keeping it to himself for so long.

 

“Hindi naman ang gabinete ang pupuntahan mo doon.” She reasoned. 

 

“Wala akong dahilan para pumunta doon.”

 

“Ginusto niyang makita ka.”

 

A beat of silence passed, and then he looked up, smiling bitterly at her. “Hindi ako ipinapangakong pupunta ako.”

 

She frowned, but nodded grimly. “Aasahan ko pa rin.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a white cloth. “Pinapabalik niya sa iyo.”

 

He felt his chest tighten, realizing what it was. He’d know it anywhere, just as he would know the last person he trusted it with. He reached for it slowly, unfolding the cloth to reveal his silver coin wrapped in a small piece of paper. It felt heavier than it used to in his palm. Upon opening, he found a note with only one line, written in familiar, elegant cursive.

 

_Sana’y mapapatawad mo ako._

 

“Pag-isipan mo pa, pero sana makapunta ka.” Felicidad’s voice was quieter than earlier, less  demanding. “Huling pagkakataon na ito.”

 

*

 

The last time Pole saw that coin had been over a year ago, during a time when he worried more about the outcome of the war and his duties as prime minister than strange-feeling days. He cordoned off that portion of his life far from where his brain could access it daily; that didn’t mean, however, that it didn’t try to remind him. 

 

Despite the cold air filtering through the windows, he felt warm, warmer than he ever did. It had little to do with the number of gas lamps flickering about the room, and everything to do with the person sitting in front of the long, narra table.

 

“Nalalamigan ka ba?” Pole looked up from the papers he was reading to see Miong frowning worriedly at him. “Pwede kong saraduhin ang bintana.”

 

“Hindi naman,” He sniffled after replying, causing Miong to narrow his eyes at him. “Huwag kang mag-alala.”

 

Miong paused for a second, reading Pole’s expression, before pushing back his chair and standing up. “Sasaraduhin ko ng konti.”

 

“Miong,” Pole chided.

 

“Konti lang,” He reassured, walking across the room to smoothly narrow the gap between windows. He turned back to face him with a smirk. “…Pwede ring naman painitin kita.”

 

Pole blinked twice. “A-Ano sabi mo?”

 

Miong’s smirk widened before he chuckled loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Bakit, ayaw mo?” He teased playfully.

 

“Hindi ko naman sinabi iyon.” Pole turned back to his papers and shuffled them casually, though the quiver in his voice gave him away.

 

He heard Miong laugh behind him before feeling warm, strong arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders, chin resting lightly on his head. Pole placed his hand over Miong’s forearm, smoothing his thumb over the rough fabric of Miong’s uniform. He wore the blue _rayadillo_ today, and he admitted that after the _regalia_ , this was his favourite. 

 

“Mag-Papasko na din.” Miong whispered.

 

Pole hummed in response, enjoying the moment in peaceful silence. “May regalo ako para sayo,”

 

His chin on his head moved to the right. “Talaga?” 

 

Pole couldn’t help but chuckle at the child-like excitement and curiosity in Miong’s voice. “Ayaw mo?”

 

“Gusto,” Miong knelt in front of him with an expression akin to a puppy; a sight that made Pole’s heart swell and his cheeks hurt, in the best way. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he deserved it, deserved _this,_ but he wasn’t going to let his doubt ruin the one thing that made him inexplicably happy. He reached into his pocket and placed a neatly folded, though slightly crumpled handkerchief on his lap.

 

It had been difficult, thinking of what present to give Miong for Christmas. He racked his brains for an answer as early as October. After all, what did you give someone who already had everything? Eventually, he had settled on something meaningful, something priceless. 

 

Miong watched him with wide eyes and quiet fascination, urging him to continue. “Nagpadala ako ng sulat sa pamilya ko para humingi ng bagong damit. Nainggit ako sa mga kaklase ko dati na palaging may malinis na suot tuwing Kuwaresma ** _._** Si Inay, binenta ang lahat ng kapeng naipon niya noong taong iyon sa Lipa, para bigyan ako nito.” He unfolded the cloth to reveal a single silver coin, worn out at the edges with a dulled down shine.

 

“Nalaman ko nalang pagkalipas ng isang linggo na pumanaw siya pag-uwi niya sa Tanauan.” Pole gripped the handkerchief tighter in his hand, crinkling the cloth slightly. “Ito nalang ang natitirang alaala niya. Nang dahil sa sakripisyo niya ay nandito ako ngayon.”

 

He took Miong’s hand in his, turned his palm up, and placed the handkerchief containing the coin on top. “Ito ang pinakamahalagang bagay sa akin. At ibinibigay ko siya sa iyo.”

 

Miong’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking at his hand. “Hindi ko alam kung matatanggap ko ito.”

 

Pole smiled at him warmly. “Hindi ko ‘yan ibibigay kahit kanino. Malaki ang tiwala ko sa iyo, Miong. Huwag mong iwawala.”

 

Miong took the coin between his fingers and ran his thumb across the embossing, eyelashes fluttering as he examined it. When he finally gazed back up at Pole, his eyes were glassy and he was smiling so widely his dimple was practically embedded onto his skin. 

 

“Maraming salamat, mahal.” The sincerity in Miong’s voice made his heart flutter. “Maraming salamat talaga.”

 

Pole’s face was heating up, and he was so sure Miong could see. “Wala lang iyon. Maliit na bagay.” It was nothing compared to all of the things Miong has done for him.

 

Miong took Pole’s hand in his and squeezed it gently. “Hindi ko sisirain ang tiwala mo sa akin, Pole. Pangako iyon.”

 

Pole smiled, reaching out and resting his other hand on Miong’s cheek. “Alam ko,”

 

Miong smiled back, leaning his head against Pole’s hand. “Maligayang Pasko, Pole.”

 

“Maligayang Pasko, Miong.”

 

*

 

The coin was still tucked in the white handkerchief, but was now hidden in the depths of his musty wooden cabinet, behind piles and piles of clothes. He loved his mother, he really did, but both holders of that coin brought him so much anguish that it was too much to bear. 

 

He might even say that the coin was cursed.

 

*

 

 

Pole forgot what Kawit was like, but everything around him seemed more and more familiar as they entered. He had only been here twice, both short visits, but they were filled with tender smiles and hours of amicable conversation with Miong’s family. It had been, like last Christmas, a very happy time.

 

He wished he could just close his eyes for the entire day.

 

They arrived at the church two hours ahead, earlier than they had anticipated. Prudencio and one of his aides went ahead to meet Felicidad, while he stayed at the furthest end of the church, watching the throngs of people entering. He expected a considerable number of people coming considering the occasion, but certainly not the crowds of women fanning themselves frantically, men in their Sunday best, navigating their families through the sea of people, and even children, whining about the heat. 

 

Pole couldn’t help but smile. Miong deserved every bit of this.

 

There were few American soliders, but he predicted that they were here out of obligation more than anything else. Filipino soldiers in their neatly-pressed _rayadillos_ entered last, with the Kawit Brigade entering first. He watched the once familiar faces file into the church entrance, and easily spotted Nonong, who removed his hat and placed it against his chest, moving to the side to allow the others in. He looked up and around, eyes scanning the crowd carefully, until he spotted Pole staring back at him.

 

Pole nodded hesitantly, knowing well that it must be a surprise to see him of all people _here_. Nonong didn’t seem to be thinking along those lines as he nodded in return, smiling politely.

 

Prudencio and his aide returned with a solemn Felicidad, and by the time Pole remembered to look for Nonong again, he was gone.

 

*

 

The day he left the palace had been a difficult one. He had packed everything gradually over a span of two weeks, the same two weeks it took for him to gather the courage to hand in the letter. Pole stared at his room, mind flooded with memories of late nights reviewing and revising regulations and laws, rainy mornings when he quietly enjoyed a cup of warm carabao’s milk, and warm afternoons - 

 

A sharp knock on his door made him jump a little in his chair. The door opened a fraction and one of his aides announced, “Nandito po ang Presidente -“

 

The door slammed open and Miong barged in, shirt heavily crinkled and unbuttoned unevenly, eyes wide and frantic, holding two pieces of paper with what Pole recognized to be his  small cursive. 

 

Pole hoped he would be able to leave without confronting Miong, but he couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief. His eyes turned to his aide, who looked between the two of them, confused. “Iiwan mo kami.” He instructed, and with his departure, they were alone.

 

Miong, trying to catch his breath, held up the papers in his hand. “Aalis ka nang hindi nagpapaalam?”

 

Pole watched his hands shake, the thin piece of paper trembling noisily. It took him a lot of willpower not to reach out and take Miong’s hands between his, smoothing his thumb over Miong’s skin to soothe him.

 

“Para sa ikabubuti nating dalawa.” 

 

A flash of hurt spread across Miong’s face. “Matagal mo ba itong inisip?” His voice cracked with anguish. 

 

Pole nodded once, and he didn’t need to look at Miong’s face to know that he was asking why. “Binasa mo naman ang sulat ko, hindi ba? Tapos na ang trabaho ko dito, Emilio. Hindi mo na ako kailangan.”

 

He heard Miong’s breath hitch with the use of his real name. “Paano mo naman inisip na hindi kita kailangan?” 

 

Pole sighed heavily. The more he heard Miong’s voice full of hurt, the less convinced he felt that this was the right thing to do. “Inimbita mo ako dito para maging tagapayo mo, hindi ba?” He didn’t wait for Miong’s answer. “Ginawa ko ang lahat ng kaya ko, kahit na malubha ang kalagayan ko. Sinigurado ko na matutupad ko ang mga ginusto mo para sa gobyernong ito.”

 

He swallowed with difficulty, a lump forming quickly in his throat. “Ngunit, simula ng taong ito, hindi mo na ako pinakikinggan. Nakatuon ang atensyon mo sa pagpapatupad ng kahilingan ng gabinete mo.”

 

Miong brought his free hand up to his forehead, massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers. “Alam mo naman na kailangan kong gawin iyon. Paano ko pamumunuhan ang gobyernong ito nang walang suporta?”

 

“Pero pinapayagan mong may masaktan para sa kanila? Kagaya ni Heneral Luna? Sinabi ng gabinete mo na masyadong marahas, umaabuso sa kapangyarihan, gusto kang palitan bilang presidente -“

 

“Tama sila, hindi ba?”

 

Pole’s eyes widened. “Tama? _Tama?_ Miong, mag-isip ka! Ginagamit ka nila para sa sarili nilang kapakanan! Paano ang Inang Bayan? Ang kalayaan? Hindi ba iyon ang layunin ng gobyernong ito? Ang dahilan kung bakit tayo lumalaban?”

 

Miong sighed. “Mayroong iba pang bagay na kailangan nating isaalang-alang. Akala ko’y sa lahat ng tao, ikaw ang makakaintindi nito.”

 

His words stung worse than a fire ant bite. That’s what brought him out of his uncertainty; this is how he knew that the Miong he first met, the one he worked countless days with, the one he loved, was gone.

 

Pole pressed his lips together in a hard line, feeling his stomach sink. “Umasa akong may sasabihin kang _kahit anong_ pwede kong mahanapan ng rason para manatili dito.” He said quietly. “Napatunayan lamang natin na hindi mo na talaga ako kailangan.”

 

He didn’t look away quickly enough to miss the hope shattering in Miong’s eyes. The silence around them made him itch to move, rather than be frozen into place. He called for his aides in a surprisingly calm voice, and told them that they would be leaving shortly. 

 

“Kailangan ko nang umalis.” He announced. He heard two heavy footsteps before Miong appeared inches away, kneeling in front of him to take Pole’s hand in his.

 

“Huwag mo akong iiwan.” He could feel the slight tremor as Miong gripped his hands tighter.

 

Pole bit his lip, eyes darting around the room as his stomach sunk even further. “Ipinangako ko iyan sa isang taong pinagkatiwalaan ako.” He turned his gaze upwards, staring right into Miong’s eyes. “Nawala na ang taong iyon.”

 

*

 

“Felicidad, nakakahiya naman kung nandoon ako sa harapan kasama ang pamilya mo.”

 

She huffed for what might have been the third time that day. “Pole, sinasabi ko sa iyo na hindi siya problema. Inimbita ka namin dito, at hindi mo rin siya makikita sa likod!”

 

Even when he looked to Prudencio for support, he just insisted on taking that place as Felicidad did.  That is how Pole found himself right in front, taking his place after courteously greeting the other members of Miong’s family. The church was packed, and the closed windows did little to help with ventilation, making it hard to breathe. Not like being here made it any easier for him.

 

The priest finally arrived, taking his place in the middle of the ornate table, and gestured everyone to stand. Pole felt his heart pounding against his chest, knowing full well that Miong was coming out any second. 

 

The choir began to sing, their voices melding together in Latin as everyone stood, a general rustling of clothes sounding across the church. Pole turned his body as much as he could to get a glimpse of the aisle, and inhaled sharply,  eyes landing on the figure moving slowly down the aisle.

 

No amount of mental preparation could have prepared him for this reality.

*

 

Pole remembered the day Nonong paid him a visit, also in his _rayadillo_ , standing at attention in the middle of his living room. Pole had been confused, raising his eyebrow at the boy. The last time they saw each other was when he accompanied Pole out of Nueva Ecija after his resignation.

 

“Tinyente Quezon, maupo ka.” He greeted after they settled down. “Anong magagawa ko para sa iyo?”

 

Nonong gave a salute, before removing his hat and doing as he was told. “Pasensiya na po, Señor Mabini. Nandito po ako para humingi ng inyong payo.”

 

“Payo?” He repeated. “Tungkol saan?”

 

Nonong began to explain the plan in great detail, even drawing up a very detailed map and utilizing the few empty ink bottles laying around to represent the different camps. After the assassination of Heneral Luna, their forces have weakened significantly against the Americans. Pole allowed Nonong to finish, before speaking.

 

“Hindi ako eksperto sa taktika, Tinyente, ngunit masasabi ko ngayon na delikado ang planong ito. Si Heneral Mascardo ba ang gumawa? Sino ang mangunguna sa labanan?”

 

Nonong didn’t answer, avoiding his eyes and biting his bottom lip. Those small actions alone were enough to make Pole’s chest tighten and his stomach sink. 

 

“Tinyente.” He repeated with a little more force, making the lieutenant look back up. “Uulitin ko ang tanong ko. Sino ang mamumuno nito?”

 

He swallowed once, before muttering, “Ang Presidente.” 

 

Pole froze, feeling his blood run cold, starting slowly from the tips of his fingers, down his arms, and throughout his entire body.  The more he thought about the plan, the more it made sense to know that _Miong_ of all people created it. He knew exactly what caused him to do this (that damned _article_ ) but the why wasn’t clear. It wasn’t even a battle _plan_ , it was a su -

 

“Señor?” 

 

Jarred from his thoughts, Pole turned his head sharply towards Nonong, who studied at him with scrunched eyebrows. “May nararamdaman po ba kayo? Bigla po kayong namulta.” 

 

Pole quickly shook his head, placing his hands on his lap to prevent them from shaking. “Bakit ka pumunta dito, Nonong? Yung totoong dahilan.”

 

The silence between them seemed to make Nonong more uncomfortable, with the way he fidgeted with the cuffs of his uniform. For Pole, it was almost stifling. “Humihingi ang Presidente ng payo niyo, Señor. Mahalaga po raw na malaman niyo ang gagawin niya.”

 

That was the answer he was afraid of. Tears stung his eyes, and he shut them tightly, hoping to keep  that and his emotions in. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Hindi niya ito gagawin.”

 

A short moment passed before Nonong spoke again, in a quieter voice. “Maraming nagbago sa Presidente noong umalis po kayo, Señor.” 

 

Pole _really_ didn’t need this right now. He pushed his emotions out of his brain, as he always did lately, taking deep breaths before opening his eyes again. “Nagbago siya bago pa ako umalis.” He directed his eyes at Nonong. “Sabihin mo sa Presidente na pag-isipan niya nang maigi ang plano niya. Magpulong siya kasama ang mga heneral. Siguraduhin niya ang lahat bago tumuloy. Malaking pagtataya ang nais niyang gawin, at hindi na kaya ng ating puwersa na matalo pa.”

 

Nonong nodded solemnly. “Maraming salamat, Señor Mabini. Sisiguraduhin ko na makakarating ang payo niyo sa Presidente.”

 

Pole nodded once, helping Nonong fold up his makeshift map and arrange the empty ink bottles. Anything to keep his mind occupied. He gave a salute before walking out the door, leaving Pole with the weight of his emotions and Nonong’s words, playing in an eternal loop.

 

“Pole!” He heard the clattering of pots from the kitchen. “Kakain na!”

 

He blinked once, twice. His brother entered the living room, probably coming to ask why he didn’t respond. “Kuya, pwedeng mamaya ng kaunti?” He didn’t bother turning to face him. He couldn’t find the energy to move. “Masama ang pakiramdam ko.”

 

Pole heard footsteps before Prudencio appeared in front of him, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied his expression. He was sure that his brother heard his conversation with Nonong - the walls were thin and there were no doors in his house, except for the one in front. 

 

“Mamaya, ha?”

 

The sunlight was fading outside Pole’s window before he decided to eat his lunch.

 

*

 

Following Nonong’s visit, Pole grew to regret having that article published. 

 

He was a fool to believe that he was in his right mind when he wrote that. He was _not_.  He wrote that two months after he resigned from the government. Nights where he clutched his chest and soaked his pillow with tears have long gone, replaced by afternoons trying to brand his mind with the words of his law books. Anything, _everything_ to distract him from the bubbling in his chest, the poison seeping through his veins.

 

Pole refused to be like this. He was a man of logic through and through, he would not become a slave to his emotions again, including anger. _Especially_ anger, and its derivatives. He also knew that he couldn’t keep it in forever, no matter how much he tried fighting it with reason. 

 

It was then that he was asked to write an article on progress of the revolution. He wrote it with what he thought was rationality and sound logic; he realized now that it was full of bitterness. He wasn’t just angry or betrayed. He wasn’t just disappointed in Miong for breaking his promises - he was disappointed with himself for believing that he wouldn’t.

 

It didn’t help that he was asked to write twice.

 

“ _The only way the President can undo his wrongs is if he dies on the battlefield fighting for our freedom_.” He had said. “ _It would save his soul, restoring his reputation while honouring the very people he let down. Other than that, he is nothing but a traitor, just like the rest of his cabinet._ ”

 

Pole never usually made room in his mind for prolonged feelings of regret, but tonight, as he lay awake, restless for the third night in a row, he dwelled in it. Had he given up too soon? Couldn’t he have rationalized another reason to stay? Should he have been more courageous, fighting against the likes of Paterno and Buencamino, rather than choosing to let go so easily? 

 

He never believed in ghosts, but from that night on, it seemed like one was pressing on his chest every time he tried to sleep. 

 

*

 

The ceremony was worse than he had anticipated. The rest of Miong’s family’s reaction ranged from overwhelming sympathy to utter disgust; he felt that he understood the latter more. Being in front had its advantages, as he wouldn’t get to see the judgmental stares, especially those from the government and military. His place, however, did not make him safe from the whispers. 

 

Felicidad leaned towards him slightly. “Nakatingin sila.”

 

Pole turned his head to the side, following Felicidad’s line of sight, and caught a glimpse of Pedro Paterno, looking slightly more tired, pointedly glaring at him, whispering to Felipe Buencamino. He immediately turned his attention back to the front.

 

Prudencio angled his torso to the right, obviously looking at their direction. “Dito pa talaga sila nagchismis.”

 

“Hayaan niyo sila.” Pole tugged his brother’s sleeve, willing him to face the opposite direction. “Hindi naman sila ang pinuntahan ko dito.”

 

His eyes landed on Miong, and the clenching feeling in his chest got worse. This was the last place he wanted to see him in. And even if he wanted to, he couldn’t cry. Everyone was here, in this room, attending this ceremony, because of something stupid that he said. 

 

Miong was gone forever because of him.

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked at Felicidad’s concerned eyes. “Hindi ikaw ang pumatay sa kanya, Pole.” She whispered. “Huwag mong iisipin na ikaw ang may kasalanan nito.”

 

*

 

The ground was dry, with the way clumps of grass crumbled under the weight of his chair. It had been a few hours since the funeral mass, and since he couldn’t follow the procession, he requested to come after the burial when everyone else had left. 

 

“Nandoon lang ako sa baba kung kailangan mo ako.” Prudencio said quietly, squeezing his shoulder gently before walking away to join Pole’s aides. 

 

He exhaled. “Sinabi ni Felicidad na pinili mong magpalibingdito.” His eyes slowly surveyed their surroundings, taking in the tall acacia trees, branches spreading far and wide, full of leaves that filtered the harsh afternoon sun. “Tahimik, wala masyadong tao, napakaraming puno, hindi masyadong mainit…”

 

Pole would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel stupid talking to himself. He had to believe, however, that Miong was listening. “Pasaway ka talaga.” His jaw tightened. “Hanggang sa huli, hindi mo rin ako sinunod."

 

He blinked, his eyes stinging. He looked at his hands on his lap, biting his now-trembling lower lip. “Marami kang ginawang mali, Miong, pero hindi ka masamang tao. Hindi ko hiniling na masaktan ka. Hindi ko rin ginustong mamatay ka para sa bansang ito…para sa akin.”

 

Reaching into his pocket, Pole brought out the worn-out silver coin. “Hindi ako papayag na may mawawala pa dahil sa aking pagkamakasarili.” He bent over as far as he could and placed it on the ground.

 

“Ipinapatawad na kita.” He sniffled, closing his eyes. “Sana’y sa susunod na pagkikita natin, mapapatawad mo rin ako.”

 


End file.
